Lemby clutched his head with both hands, leant his elbows on his knees, and stared at the carpet. "You are telling me the truth, I suppose?"
"Why, should I tell you a lie?" demanded Sandal, drily. "I wish myself that Sir Hector could have married your daughter, who is a sweet girl. She would have made him happy."
"How dare he make love to Claudia when he was already a married man!"
"Let me remind you, Mr. Lemby, that when Sir Hector asked your daughter to be his wife he was a widower, or, at least, believed himself to be so."
"Then why didn't he tell me so?"
"There was no need to tell you. Sir Hector very naturally wished to forget the mistake he had made with regard to his marriage."
"It's a plot to rob my daughter of her rights!" shouted Lemby, savagely.
"Lower your voice, if you please," said Sandal, sternly. "If you cannot speak quietly I shall put an end to this interview. There is no plot. I have the newspaper in which is the report of the fire at the Chicago theatre and the death of Maisie Chain, who was really Lady Wyke. Sir Hector left that with me, and it has remained in his deed box ever since. As to your daughter's rights, she had none, seeing that she was not married to my client."
"Are you sure, that this woman is Lady Wyke?"
"Yes, I am. I knew her well in the old days, when Sir Hector and I were young men. I was present at the marriage, and there is a certificate of that in the deed box also. I knew Lady Wyke immediately she walked into this office some days after her husband was buried."